


It's My Burden to Carry, Too

by snibnoom



Series: With You [2]
Category: ASTRO (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-09 18:38:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13487379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snibnoom/pseuds/snibnoom
Summary: Bin won't let Myungjun shoulder the weight of anything alone.





	It's My Burden to Carry, Too

“ _Myungjun_ , hurry up! These bags are cutting off my circulation.”

 

“Oh, shut up! I’m the one that needs to save my fingers anyway.” Myungjun skips down the hall towards Bin, who is already in front of the door. His hair jumps as he does. “My hands have to be saved for painting.”

 

“Yeah, and for making me food.”

 

Bin laughs when Myungjun slaps his arm. “Take that back!”

 

“Not until you give me a kiss.”

 

Myungjun immediately pulls Bin down by his jacket, kissing Bin lightly on the lips. The kiss lingers for just a moment before Myungjun has pulled away, leaving a pout on Bin’s lips.

 

“Now take it back.”

 

Bin moans. “Just open the door already! We have to get this stuff inside before your exhibition.”

 

Myungjun shakes his head. “Nope.”

 

Bin sets the grocery bags down, sighing at the relief his fingers get. “You’re insufferable.”

 

“But you deal with me anyway,” Myungjun sing-songs.

 

“That’s it.”

 

Myungjun is already screeching and running away before Bin has moved. He chases his boyfriend down the hall, feet pounding loudly against the floor. Myungjun slides around a corner, but Bin is close behind him. They’re being loud, but it’s the middle of the day so it isn’t like they’re _really_ disturbing anybody. Bin catches Myungjun finally, wrapping both arms around him from behind and lifting him off the carpet floor.

 

“Put me down!” Myungjun laughs. “Bin! _Ah_ , Bin!”

 

“This is your punishment!” Bin announces, fingers digging into Myungjun’s sides.

 

Myungjun cries out in laughter, contorting his body to avoid Bin’s tickling attack. It isn’t enough, though, and Myungjun breaks into a run again, back in the direction of their apartment.

 

Bin lets Myungjun run this time. He’s still laughing, even as he reaches the corner of the hall.

 

“What, give up already?”

 

Bin nods. “Yup. I concede.”

 

“Loser!” Myungjun yells, disappearing around the corner.

 

Maybe Bin shouldn’t have let Myungjun get that far away from him.

 

There’s a loud thump coinciding with Myungjun’s yell. Bin sprints to the corner, flinging himself around it just in time to see the elevator doors close with someone inside. Myungjun is crumpled on the floor, holding his head.

 

Bin skids to a stop, dropping to his knees before Myungjun. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

 

“I’m—He pushed me,” Myungjun says, holding his head.

 

Bin pulls Myungjun’s hand away from his head, sighing in relief at a lack of physical damage. “Who was he?”

 

“I don’t know, he just—” Myungjun shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

 

Bin, despite having assessed that Myungjun’s head was fine, goes through the trouble of checking him over from head to toe. “I swear, if whoever that was hurt you, I’m going to hunt them down and teach them a lesson they’ll never forget.”

 

“Bin, I’m okay, really,” Myungjun says, laughter bubbling in his chest. “He was probably just some jerk who just moved in, late for work or something.”

 

Bin sighs, helping Myungjun to his feet. “You forgive people so quickly.”

 

“I wouldn’t be able to if I hadn’t learned to deal with you first.”

 

Bin scoffs, sliding his fingers between Myungjun’s. “I’m almost offended.”

 

“Yeah, _almost_.”

 

Bin swings his arm with Myungjun’s as they walk back to their apartment. The closer they get, however, the more obvious it is that something is amiss. Food has been knocked out of their bags and trampled. When Bin realizes that their door is wide open, he pushes Myungjun behind him.

 

The apartment is trashed. Paper has been strewn everywhere. The cushions of their couch have been slashed, stuffing popping out from the jagged openings. Their glass coffee table has been shattered. Myungjun’s artwork hanging on their walls all have been slashed, the same word spray painted across them in red: _gay_.

 

“Oh,” Myungjun breathes, and Bin watches him step into the apartment. He goes straight to the nearest piece of art, fingers tracing the spray-painted word.

 

“I’m calling the cops,” Bin says. Myungjun simply nods.

 

They wait in the hall until the police show up, Myungjun’s face buried in Bin’s chest. Though he doesn’t make any noise, Bin can feel the sobs shaking Myungjun’s body. Each one makes Bin’s heart harden. When the police start asking questions, Bin keeps hold of Myungjun, even despite their looks.

 

“I think it’s quite obvious why this has happened,” one of the officers says as two others inspect the inside of the apartment. “Have you considered being more private with your lifestyle choices?”

 

If it weren’t for Myungjun in his arms, Bin would’ve punched him.

 

When the officers have gone and they’ve closed their door, Myungjun changes demeanors. Bin watches in silent shock as Myungjun removes every piece of art from their walls in the living space, tossing them to the floor like rags.

 

“Myungjun, what are you—”

 

“They’re worthless now,” Myungjun says. He sniffles, wiping his nose. “Take care of the groceries.”

 

“Myung—”

 

Bin is interrupted by Myungjun tossing a rather large piece of art to the floor. Rather than protest, Bin does as he was told. He carries in the groceries from outside their apartment, salvaging what he can from the stepped-on bags. Myungjun leans the ruined masterpieces against the wall, the once-beautiful art now hidden from sight. Bin stays silent, busying himself with the couch cushions, trying to make some sort of order out of the mess.

 

Myungjun leaves the room, but Bin doesn’t follow. Not until he hears Myungjun’s distressed shout.

 

His studio has been torn apart. Paint splashes cover the floor, walls, and ceiling. Even the empty canvases, free from Myungjun’s artistic touch, have been slashed and spray painted with red. The words are worse, here, disgusting slurs covering any viable surface. Among the mess, squatting in the middle of the room, is Myungjun, his head in his hands.

 

Myungjun fights against Bin when Bin first grabs him. He lets Myungjun’s hands slap against his arms and chest, brows pulled together in determination. He sits down, his butt squishing against wet paint, and pulls Myungjun into his chest. It doesn’t take long for the sobs to return, Myungjun’s breathing loud and uneven. Bin holds Myungjun in his lap even as his noises stop and his breathing evens out. He doesn’t let go even when Myungjun has gone completely still in his arms. Even when the room is entirely silent aside from their soft breathing and the A/C unit in the window, Bin still keeps Myungjun against his chest.

 

“You shouldn’t have to deal with this,” Myungjun says, his words thick as they roll out of his mouth. “It’s only going to get worse as my career gets better. If you want to leave right now, I wouldn’t blame you.”

 

“Idiot,” Bin mutters. He pushes his fingers through Myungjun’s thick hair, kissing his forehead.

 

“You see how it is now,” Myungjun says, his voice getting quieter as he speaks. “Why do you want this?”

 

“I don’t want this,” Bin says, “but I _do_ want you. I want to wake up every morning and see you smile, and I want to fall asleep every night with you in my arms.”

 

Myungjun sniffles, hitting Bin’s chest lightly. “Loser.”

 

“Yeah, but I’m _your_ loser.”

 

“All of this, though, Bin… You don’t have to deal with it. It’s my fault, so it’s my burden.”

 

“Hey, hey, none of that.” Bin cups Myungjun’s jaw, tilting his head up until Myungjun is looking him in the eyes. His eyes are swollen, and his lips are, too. His skin is stained with pale pink patches, and the tip of his nose is red.

 

“You”—Bin pushes Myungjun’s hair off his forehead—”are not at fault. This isn’t your fault, and it isn’t your burden alone. I _love_ you, Myungjun, for crying out loud. If this is your burden, then it’s my burden to carry, too.”

 

Myungjun throws his arms around Bin’s shoulders, pressing his face into his neck. Bin laughs softly. “What? What did I say?”

 

“You’re such a loser, Bin,” Myungjun mumbles against Bin’s neck, his words tickling Bin’s skin. “A big, fat loser, and I love you.”

 

Bin rubs Myungjun’s back. He isn’t sure how long they sit there. In fact, the only things he’s really sure about is that they’re going to be late to Myungjun’s second exhibition at this particular gallery (just like they were late to the first), and that he’ll never let Myungjun bear the weight of anything alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Oops it's sort of sad


End file.
